


Watching You Watching Me

by Elf



Category: Alice in Wonderland (2010)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Romance, Smut, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-18
Updated: 2011-02-16
Packaged: 2017-10-11 03:43:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 16,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/107962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elf/pseuds/Elf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alice has been back in her world for a year and has essentially forgotten about Underland and a certain Hatter. Still, she feels as though someone is watching her and as the feeling grows stronger she decides to have a little fun with the watcher she's "imagined".</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Give and Take

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally intended to be a songfic set to "I Get Off" by Halestorm. When I started writing it, however, it seemed to work well without me adding in the lyrics. This is also some of the only smut that I've every posted online (as I keep most of it for my eyes only) so have fun! I own nothing about Alice in Wonderland, the characters or the movie-verse nor am I making a cent off of this. I just had the urge to write some smut.

That feeling was back.

The feeling that someone was watching her. No, not just watching her; staring intently at her.

Alice laid her pen on the desk and closed the log book she had been working on. Closing her eyes, she leaned back and stretched her arms above her head. In the year since she had turned down Hamish’s proposal after taking a fall in the garden, she had felt as though someone was always following her. The feeling came and went in varying degrees through the day but was strongest in the evenings when she was preparing to retire.

All of her efforts at trying to see who was following and watching her proved fruitless. She had caught glimpses in windows and mirrors but never more than flashes of color. Bright orange, a moment of green, occasionally a bit of purple, but never once had she seen anything more. For a few months Alice had thought she was going mad and simply imagining everything. Recently, however, she had decided that if someone (even if it was a figment of her imagination) was watching her she might as well accept it.

An unforeseen result of this acceptance had been her imagination running rampant; more so than usual.

In the evenings as she undressed and prepared for sleep, she imagined that was the time her watcher was paying the most attention. It had to be her imagination that he (as it was her imagination she decided her watcher was most definitely male) was doing more than just watching her. Much to her surprise, Alice thought she could feel him _enjoying_ her movements as she undressed…enjoying them in a most physical way. At first she found herself blushing at this line of thinking but lately she had decided to enjoy it. She had turned away the affections of two other men since the incident at Hamish’s party but that didn’t mean she didn’t wish for attention. It was just that none of the men who had approached her had felt “right”.

Her watcher did.

_Of course he does_, she thought to herself, standing and pushing the chair back under the desk. _You’ve imagined him how you want him to be._ As she moved to the dresser and pulled out a fresh nightgown she wondered about the appearance of her imagined watcher. Her mind had given him a pale complexion with fiery red hair and bright green eyes. She wasn’t sure why her imagination had added an elaborate top hat but it felt right. Alice sometimes thought she might have met someone who fit that description but the memory never surfaced completely.

Brushing away those thoughts, she laid the gown on the bed and moved to stand in front of the full length mirror that was set in the corner of the room. The feeling of being watched seemed to become more intense and she fought back a smile. After all, Alice didn’t want to scare away this figment of her imagination, not when she’d finally decided she enjoyed his presence. Instead she reached for the first button at the neckline of her dress and slowly began the process of unfastening them.

****

Tarrant Hightopp, Royal Hatter to the White Queen, wondered if it was possible to be more mad than he already was.

He was fairly certain it was very possible and happening to him _right now!_

For days (or had it been weeks? months?) he had been staring into mirror that stood in his workshop. Not long after Alice left he had caught a glimpse of her in it while he had been working. Tarrant had been so surprised that the fabric he had been trimming ended up a shredded mess, forgotten on the floor. Since that first glimpse he essentially planted himself in front of the mirror, eating and drinking only when the items we pushed into his hand at sporadic intervals by his friends. He had paid them almost no attention. Instead his focus had been on the mirror, waiting for it to show him Alice once again. Sometimes he would notice her turn suddenly, seeming to stare directly at him but then look confused and continue on her way. The mirror was sporadic with what it showed him except for one thing.

He noticed that it showed Alice consistently right before she would go to bed.

Those times the mirror would stay clear from the moment she would begin to lay out her nightclothes to the moment her breathing evened out once she was asleep. During those times he was treated to (tortured with) the image of her removing her clothing, piece by piece, before pulling on a thin gown to sleep in. At first he noticed that she didn’t turn toward what must be a mirror in her world at all. In fact she often changed so swiftly that Tarrant almost wondered if he had blinked and missed all the wonderful Alice-bits that must have been exposed.

Lately he had noticed that she seemed more relaxed and her movements slowed, allowing him to view more of her than his own mad mind had ever dreamed of. He often watched her hands as they moved piece by piece and he barely realized that his own hands were moving as well, reaching for parts of him that begged for the touch of a certain soft hand. He could imagine that it was Alice’s hands instead of his own that reached for the fastenings on his clothing, that brushed his bare skin, that…

Tarrant shook his head to bring himself back to the moment. Alice was there, _right there_, standing in front of the mirror and starting to undo the buttons that lined the front of her dress. He felt his own hands flexing, desperate to take over that action for her. Instead he would have to content himself with this watching.

****

Alice reached the last button and decided that if she was going to continue to indulge her imagination she might at least have fun with it. She trailed her fingers back up the now open line of her dress until they reached the neckline once again. Looking at the mirror and her own reflection she allowed herself a small smile before pushing the dress off one shoulder and then the other. She felt the material slide down her body until it was piled on the floor around her ankles. Her imagination conveniently supplied her with an indrawn breath from her watcher. Alice knew that while she was still clothed in several layers, there were two important ones missing: a corset and stockings. Despite her mother’s constant reprimands, Alice had flatly refused to conform with those ridiculous articles of clothing and she was very grateful of that at the moment.

Her hands found their way to the ties on her petticoat at the small of her back and with a few practiced movements she had the ribbon undone and it fell to the floor to join her dress. Now she looked back into the mirror, clad only in her chemise and bloomers. While she had taken to undressing slowly in front of the mirror, this was the first time she had stared into it, letting her imagination warm her blood with the mental images of her watcher and how he might be enjoying these moments.

It might have been most improper for her to think of such things but then, Alice had never liked to err on the side of proper. She knew much more about the male anatomy and how they took their own pleasure than she ever expected to thanks to the Chattaway sisters and their tales. Now that knowledge formed an interesting mental image and she found that she could picture her watcher, his reflection in the mirror ghostly over her own. Alice found her breath quickening as the (imagined) reflection’s hands clenched and unclenched on his pants legs, his face pale and yet flushed. She wondered what those hands might feel like on her body and closed her eyes for a moment, her hands moving across the fabric of her chemise, resting on her stomach.

Feeling her skin tingle, she opened her eyes and slowly undid the ties of her bloomers. These she slid down her legs with her hands, feeling a tingling from her hips to her toes as her hands moved across her body. Alice watched with eyes half open as her (imagined!) watcher moved his own hands to the front of his trousers and began to unfasten them. Her lips parted slightly. She hadn’t guessed her imagination was _this_ active but she was too intrigued to want it to stop. Her fingers reached for the bottom of her chemise and with a quick movement she pulled it over her head, finally standing bare before the mirror.

She took in the sight of her own reflection meshing with that of her imagined watcher. Alice saw him jerk as if in pain and saw his lips move, framing a word. _Of course I’d want him to say my name,_ she thought. And though she knew it was just her imagination, she found herself excited, watching him watching her. As he leaned back against his chair, she watched his pale, bandaged hand reach into the opening of his trousers and free that straining part of him that she was quite interested in. Reaching up to remove the pins that held her hair up, she smiled and then shook her hair once it was loose. It was soft on her back and Alice ran her fingers through it, enjoying the feel.

She tilted her head back and ran her hands down her neck until they brushed over the tops of her breasts, feeling her nipples harden beneath her palms. Her imagination was kind enough to supply her with the sound of her watcher groaning and the hoarse noise sent shivers down her spine. She felt the tingling travel across her skin until it stopped at that place between her legs, the place that no proper lady should ever think of. Not that she could remember the last time she'd been described as a "proper lady".

Alice opened her eyes just enough to be able to see her watcher in a rather delightful position. One of his hands was gripping the arm of the chair, hard enough that she could see the grooves his fingernails had scratched. The other hand....

She had to take a shuddering breath.

The other hand was stroking his shaft, moving up and down with quick, even movements. Though Alice knew what he was doing, it was a different experience seeing it...or imagining it, rather. Her own breathing started to get faster and she felt her heart speed up as one of her hands slid lower, down her stomach until it stopped just above the hairs that hid her own sex. This time her imagined watcher growled her name, his voice carrying a hint of a brogue. Alice's knees grew weak and she sank to the floor, kneeling in front of the mirror.

When her eyes focused again Alice saw that her watcher had moved out of his chair and was also keeling, his free hand braced on one edge of the mirror. His other hand continued to move, faster and faster. Leaning back on her heels he let her fingers travel even lower, brushing that small spot that throbbed sharply. Alice's other hand clenched and she felt the sting of the scratches that her own nails made. She could imagine the ragged breathing of her watcher and knowing that he was growing more excited just watching her spurred her on.

Her fingers moved again, bringing that sharp throbbing. Unable to stop herself she moved to press the heel of her hand against that small hard spot and her fingers moved, pressing into the cleft that was already so damp. The combination of sensations along with the sounds her imagination supplied was so intense that she had to bite her lip to keep from crying out. The imagined watcher did cry out and the sound of her name in his voice (how was her imagination so vivid) pushed her into a sudden rush of pleasure, her own voice crying out a name that she only vaguely recognized.

Slowly her body's spasms subsided and she slumped to rest on her hands and knees, trying to slow her breathing. When she looked up at the mirror again the reflection that she had imagined was gone. The feeling of being watched still remained though it felt more...relaxed...than usual. Alice reached out to the bed and and pulled herself to her feet. Ignoring the gown that she had laid out, she slipped between the sheets, enjoying the feel of the cool linen against her skin. It was only as she started to drift into a rather satisfied sleep that she remembered the name she had cried out.

"Tarrant," Alice whispered, tasting the syllables. They felt familiar on her tongue but she couldn't place the why. As the heaviness of sleep took her she wondered if her mind had finally gone completely round the bend in creating a name for her watcher. Or even worse, maybe she hadn't imagined it at all. _After all,_ she thought, _nothing is truly impossible_.

 ****

In a distant land, separated from her by only a looking glass, Tarrant Hightopp pressed his hand against the cool surface of the mirror and felt his heartbeat slow from its frantic pace. “Remember me, Alice,” he said in a rough voice. “I’ll be watchin’ ye.”


	2. Your Tears

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One month after her experience with her imagined watcher and the mirror, Alice finds that the feeling of being watched is fading until she meets a gentleman who is familiar and yet not and finds that her thoughts toward him are less than proper...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This came about as inspiration from Manniness to write more in a series based on the first fic "Watching You Watching Me". Yes, this isn't my usual main pairing (this chapter is definitely Stayne/Alice) but don't worry, I have the rest of the series planned out already...
> 
> Also, I own nothing!

Her first impression of Lord Benton Felway was one of height.

Alice wondered, as the dark haired gentleman smiled at her, how any man could possibly be so tall. She guessed that he had to be well over a foot taller than her and she found herself taking a small step backward in order to look at him at an angle that didn’t hurt her neck.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Kingsley,” he said in a smooth voice, bowing slightly.

She nodded automatically and gave him the same reply she’d given to the other men who had approached her at this gathering. “The pleasure is mine.”

This dinner had been Lord Ascot’s idea, to celebrate the final plans of their voyage to China which would take place in three months. He had convinced Alice that it would be good for her to meet several of the investors in her father’s company now that she had finished her initial training. She hadn’t thought about how those investors would have sons and thoughts of forging more lasting ties with the company. Alice had spent the evening trying to make pleasant small talk and turn down any advances that were made toward her. This Lord Felway was the fourth gentleman who had approached her during the dinner.

Still, she had to admit, there was something…striking….about this man. It wasn’t just his height but something else about him made her pause before she would have turned away. Looking at him carefully she tried to put her finger on what had caught her attention. He was pale with dark hair that was pulled back and tied at the nape of his neck and his dark grey eyes seemed to devour her every movement. Alice had to admit that she did find him attractive and well proportioned but there was something familiar about him.

Then it hit her. He reminded her of her imagined watcher.

Well, not exactly of her imagined watcher, but close. Alice was all too aware of the mental image her imagination had provided her of the phantom peeping tom (whom she hadn’t seen again since that night in front of the mirror a month before) and this man definitely did not fit that description. Even so, there was a feeling she got from him, as though he was also a figment of her imagination.

“Is something wrong, Miss Kingsley?”

His voice jolted Alice out of her thoughts and she blinked, trying to clear the image of her watcher from her mind. “I’m sorry, my mind was wandering. What were you saying?”

Benton smiled again. “I was asking if you might be interested in joining me for tea tomorrow.”

She opened her mouth to refuse and then closed it again, rethinking her reply. It was true that he wasn’t at all like the imaginary watcher that she had dreamed up but this man (this very not-imagined man) felt like a piece of a puzzle that she hadn’t known was missing from her life. It couldn’t hurt to join him for one afternoon of tea. Alice finally nodded at him. “Yes,” she said firmly. “I would like that.”

****

One afternoon of tea led to another and within a week Alice found herself actually enjoying Benton’s (they were finally on a first name basis) company on a daily basis. He had a sharp wit and she enjoyed the banter that had developed between them. By the end of the first week of their association, Alice was comfortable taking his proffered arm when they would walk the gardens of his estate and didn’t mind the lingering glances that he gave her when he didn’t think she was watching.

She didn’t mind those glances at all.

The feeling of being watched had faded since she had met Benton and Alice realized that she missed the attention her imagination had provided. Now, a month after their introduction, she found herself returning those sly looks of Benton’s and began to wonder if he’d think less of her for the direction her thoughts were beginning to take in regards to him. She wasn’t really surprised at her growing fantasies about Benton. She had grown used to the attention from her imagined watcher and with the sudden absence of that watched feeling her mind and body seemed to be growing restless.

This particular afternoon Alice found her mind almost completely unable to follow the thread of conversation during tea. Eventually she realized that Benton had fallen silent and they had spent the better part of the afternoon exchanging glances instead. Finally he set his cup down and stood.

“Perhaps now would be a good time to escort you back to your home,” Benton said and held out his hand to her.

Allowing him to gently tug her to her feet Alice could only agree. “I’m sorry, Benton. I’m afraid I haven’t been very good company today.”

They walked toward the entrance of his gardens and began following the now-familiar path back to her home. “What’s in your thoughts today, Alice?” he asked after a long silence.

Asking you to kiss me until I beg for air, she didn’t say. Help me feel the way I did when I imagined _him_ watching me. Alice had to wait until the thoughts that tried to find their way to her lips finally settled back. “Wondering why you spend all your afternoons lately having tea with me rather than with someone who won’t be leaving on a voyage in less than three months.”

Now he was silent as though composing his thoughts. “You’re fascinating, Alice. You’re such a contradiction in so many ways that I can’t ever be sure that I’m getting to know you.” He paused as they reached the entrance to building where she had her loft. “And I want to…if you’ll let me.”

Alice felt familiar chills crawl up and down her spine as his words sent her imagination into fits. Oh, she wanted him to know her in ways that only her imagined watcher had known her but she couldn’t admit those out loud to this very real man. Looking up at him she tried to find a comment that would ease the sudden tension of the moment but his dark eyes stilled her voice. She felt her hand clench on his arm suddenly as another series of shivers made her skin tingle.

Benton’s eyes widened at the sharp pain that her nails made when she gripped his arm. Then he smiled at her, the same sort of smile that he’d given her the first time they’d met.

A dark and predatory sort of smile.

Alice felt her heart start to race and she let him draw her through the entrance of the building and up the stairs to her loft on the second floor. A million bits of reason beat frantically at her mind, screaming at her to tell him to leave, to run and lock herself in a room away from him, to never, ever see him again.

She found that she was tired of living in a world full of “reason”.

Pulling him into her home, she closed the door and locked it, firmly ignoring anything her mind was trying to tell her. Benton stood a few feet away, his eyes narrowed and gleaming. Then as he reached out to grab her arm she twisted to the side and made a dash for the bedroom, unsure if she was trying to escape or entice him.

Before she could figure out her own intentions Alice felt hands grab her from behind and spin her around quickly. She had one moment to glimpse the mirror as she spun and in that moment she swore that her imagination had put her watcher back where he belonged. Then Benton’s lips were on hers, the pressure rough and painful but enjoyable even so. She wondered as she felt his hands moving, pulling the back of her dress open, why her imagination would decide to act up now. The feeling of the tiny buttons popping off the fabric brought her attention fully back to Benton and she reached for his coat, pushing her hands inside and then tugging it off his shoulders, whimpering when it caught on his arms.

He released her only long enough to shrug out of the jacket and then his hands resumed their task of removing the many layers of her clothing. As he continued to kiss her she lost track of time and when she regained her senses she realized that there was an incredible lack of clothing between them. In spite of all of her imaginings and rather wanton thoughts, Alice found herself blushing and tried to step backward, suddenly very unsure about her own intentions.

Benton pulled her to stand in front of him, her back pressed against his chest. Alice shuddered at the heat that seemed to radiate from his skin and she was all too aware of the hard length of him that was trapped between them. She stared at their reflection in her mirror, feeling her imagination (or was it her own feelings) beat with fear and nervousness. Feeling his hands slide down her arms, she shivered and saw him grin over her shoulder. His hands finally reached hers and he lifted her them, placing them flat on either side of the mirror. Alice found herself leaning forward, her face just inches from the reflective surface.

His fingers trailed from the nape of her neck and down her spine and he noted the way that her body trembled when his hands moved to skim over her buttocks. Alice shook uncontrollably as the light touch teased her, long fingers brushing closer and closer to the part of her that was wet with anticipation. She felt tears begin to well up in her eyes, wanting him to finish what she had essentially begged him to start, wanting him to make her forget about her imaginary watcher, wanting him to make her forget everything, even if just for a moment. Choking back a sob, Alice felt the tears finally start to fall and she bit her lip to stop herself from crying out the word _please_.

Finally she felt his fingers touch that damp spot of her being and she jerked, feeling her teeth tear into her bottom lip. She heard him chuckle and then she lost herself as he slid one long finger inside her, a place that until now only she had ever touched. That finger moved, sliding out and in again causing a delicious friction. As a second finger joined the first Alice found herself moving her hips, pressing back against him. The movement slowed after a bit and as she tried to catch her breath she felt his other hand slipping under her hair and wrapping itself around her throat, forcing her head up to stare into the mirror. She saw her own tearstained face, the blood on her lip that had trickled down her chin, his hand around her neck.

His fingers shifted inside her, causing her to gasp and her gaze shifted to the other reflection in her mirror. Above her head she could see his face, that smile firmly in place as he leaned down to whisper in her ear. “You wanted this, Alice,” he said, his voice low and harsh. “You _will_ watch this.”

Before she even had time to respond, his fingers were gone and she felt him shift behind her. Her eyes caught the movement lower in the mirror and saw that male part of him, large and stiff sliding between her thighs nudging her legs further apart. Alice couldn’t have closed her eyes if she had wanted to. It was as thought she was hypnotized by the sight of what was about to happen. The tip of his shaft probed against the damp lips of her own sex for a moment and then paused just barely inside her. Benton’s right hand, fingers still wet from their exploration, grasped her hip hard enough that tears began to fall from her eyes again.

“Tell me, Alice. Tell me now if you truly want this.”

The hand around her throat loosed enough that she was able to draw a single deep breath. As she exhaled she managed a single hoarse word:

“Yes….”

Benton’s expression was one of triumph as she spoke. The hand gripping her hip yanked her backward sharply and Alice screamed in pain, shock and surprise as he tore through the barrier that had marked her as a virgin and buried himself completely inside her. They remained that way for a long moment as her voice trailed off to a whimper. Before the throbbing pain inside her eased she felt him slide out almost completely and then thrust back quickly to fill her once more.

Alice cried out, the pain and unexpected pleasure of the movement making her hands clench, nails scraping along the wall. She could smell the sharp metallic scent of blood and when her eyes darted downward again she saw that her inner thighs were indeed growing red, yet she couldn’t imagine asking him to stop. Not now…

As his movements gained a rhythm she moved her own hips to match his thrusts. Alice realized with a start that his hand had released her neck and he was now gripping her hips, guiding her as he quickened his pace. The familiar pressure began to build, so much more intense this time as she was not the one in control of it, and she cried out again with the intensity of the feeling as it broke over her. Feeling those muscles surrounding that part of him clench over and over, Alice heard Benton gasp her name before his own release. Somehow she could feel him inside her, convulsing and he thrust himself fully inside her one last time, holding her there.

Suddenly feeling so very exhausted, Alice slumped forward, closing her eyes and letting her forehead rest against the cool surface of the mirror. She heard a voice, familiar and half-imagined, whisper her name. With her eyes closed she never saw the reflection of Benton, leaning over her, ripple and shift to that of a much taller man, a deep scar running down his left cheek, underneath the black eye patch that covered the worst of the damage. She didn’t see him lean forward, speaking to a translucent reflection of a third person, one with a tortured expression, top hat askew and hands planted against the other side of the looking glass.

Alice, lost in the waves of pleasure that still racked her form, never heard the words that were spoken to that third reflection.

“She’s mine, Hatter. Willingly and completely,” Stayne whispered, sneering at the reflection that screamed in silence on the other side.


	3. Mad Extremes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Caught on the other side of the looking glass, Tarrant tries to fight the Madness after seeing Stayne claim an all-too-willing Alice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've wanted to write something from the point of view of Tarrant's madness since seeing the movie. The previous chapter seemed to be perfect catalyst. In case you were curious, the song inspiration for this particular chapter is "The World Has Gone Insane" from the Jekyll &amp; Hyde second concept album. P.S. I own nothing!

He hadn’t known it would be possible to find new depths to his madness. But that’s where Tarrant found himself.

All because of that slurvish mirror!

Ever since _that_ day the mirror had been even more sporadic in its views than before, as if it had only wanted to tease him with the briefest of Alice-glimpses after that. Tarrant had moved the mirror so that he would be able to view it from almost any point in his workshop and began taking up his trade once more. It wasn’t until recently that he had seen Alice more clearly, laughing and walking past, as though crossing in front of a window. He noticed that she was in the company of someone, a tall man whose face was often blurred or distorted.

The came the day when the mirror decided to clear once again and showed Alice darting into her bedroom and then being caught by the tall man. Tarrant had been terrified at first that she was being attacked but all too quickly it became apparent that she was welcoming the man’s attention.

When the pair had faced the mirror together, that was when Tarrant finally saw the man’s face clearly.

Ilosovic Stayne. The Red Knave.

And he was taking possession of Tarrant’s Alice!

Alice never saw him in the mirror that day. Tarrant knew that much even in his madness. But Stayne had seen him and laughed, thinking he had claimed a victory.

And hadn’t he?

Alice’s innocence was gone. It wasn’t even the horrible knowledge that Stayne was the one who had taken it. No, it was more than that. It was that Alice had _given_ it to him. Freely. Happily.

No amount of screaming had changed that fact and when the mirror went dark again Tarrant felt his mind descend into its own darkness.

In his mind’s eye he relived each moment of that last image. He watched the Knave as he touched those Alice-places that were Alice and Tarrant’s alone! Worse yet was the way that Alice had responded to that man’s touch. Tarrant knew the expressions that crossed her face and he recognized the desire in her eyes that reminded him of that first moment that she had been daring in front of the mirror. The only difference is that the desire was now for someone else.

Stayne!

His mind flipped back and forth between those two different days until it felt like each of the thoughts was nibbling at the edges of his mind, sending tendrils of red through the black of the Madness that had taken him. The colors brought no relief however and he only found that they twisted and choked him instead. He heard Alice’s voice – the screams, gasps, cries, whimpers –that were not meant for him. Tarrant discovered the color of Alice’s passion was purple, but this purple pulsed with darkness and he tried to turn away from it.

_Alice_ _!_

How had Stayne gotten to Alice’s world? To her side? _To her bedroom?!_

Trapped in the darkness with the ribbons of color wrapped around his limbs, he howled. The darkness swallowed the sound and then threw it back at him, amplified ten-fold. Tarrant clapped his hands over his ears and closed his eyes against the sound of his own anguish. When he felt the force of the cry ease he lowered his hands. In the blackness he saw another thread of color winding its way toward him. This one was a dark crimson streaked with black and he tried to back away from it. The Madness held him fast and he shook his head, not wanting that tendril to touch him. It came ever closer and the moment it touched him, wrapping around his ankle he heard laughter in a familiar and hated voice.

No! No! NO! He struggled, trying to get away and escape but Stayne’s laughter continued, mocking him. The crimson/black of the laughter began to burn him, the pain spreading from that one point of contact across Tarrant’s skin until he felt as though the fire consumed him. His skin cracked and split under the intense heat even as the laughter continued. _His _Alice was gone. Taken. Perhaps had never been.

Tarrant’s heart clenched at that last thought and suddenly the pain of fire and the laughter were gone. His skin was unmarred by any sign of the flames that he had felt. He held his hands up, their whiteness a stark contrast to the dark of the Madness. Bandaged and stained, they showed no sign of the damage he had felt. As he stared at them, he saw Alice’s (not real) hands pressed against his, transparent fingers twining with his.

_Alice_ _?_

Her voice filled the darkness, gasping and whimpering, begging and pleading for more…more…calling out a name.

Feeling his whole body wrench at the sound of Stayne’s name on her lips (but she didn’t know, couldn’t know it was him…please don’t let her have known) he cried out and his hands balled into fists, shattering the pale image that had been before him. Tarrant tried to scream but the darkness was too thick, too dense and instead his lungs burned from lack of air. He fought for air, falling to his knees in the center of the Madness, drawing in the air and blackness bit by bit. Memories and not-memories spun around him, still so vivid even when he closed his eyes.

_Child-Alice_

She had been so young and innocent and still so very contrary. Tarrant had wanted to protect her from the worst of the world that he knew was out there. Had wanted to keep her in Underland with him. Had wanted to watch her grow. But she’d left so suddenly. Until she was gone, he hadn’t realized how much she meant to him.

_Right-proper-sized-Alice_

This memory tugged him to his feet, drew him along, the ribbons of color and pain trailing behind.

She’d come back. Convinced they were all a dream, true, but she’d come back! He was happy with this memory. He wanted to keep it safe from the rest of the Madness but the Madness would not let him rest.

He’d seen the way that Stayne looked at Alice in the Red Queen’s castle. He’d known back then but had put it out of his mind. Too many other things to think about just then. And if he had seen how Stayne looked at Alice, then that _man_ must have seen how he, Tarrant, looked at her.

Stopping in the black, he watched as ribbons of blue began to wind themselves around his chest, squeezing him tight enough to make him gasp. If the Knave already wanted Alice, then knowing that he was taking her from Tarrant would indeed be sweet revenge. Tarrant found himself growling, hands clenching and unclenching in fury. And Stayne had done just that.

_Taken! Gone!_

Colors exploded around him as he howled. His voice trailed off into incoherent Outlandish mutterings and the colors swirled, writhing around him, trapping him even though he made no move to escape. Voices rose and fell, mixing with his own.

_“I’ll miss you when I wake up.”_

_“Why is a raven like a writing desk?”_

_“You wanted this.”_

_“Yessss…..”_

“Alice!” he cried out, his cutting through the others for a moment. Everything seemed to halt in that instant as though the Madness itself was stunned.

Then it struck back with a vengeance.

Tarrant had always known that he was half mad. That he wandered in and out of the top layers of insanity. It had never been enough of a voyage that someone hadn’t been able to call him back. Always (always) there had been someone who cared who could pull him back out of those encounters.

He knew now that there was much more Madness to be had.

The cacophony of sounds and voices was at such a level that he was vaguely surprised that he had not shaken apart from it. Around him the colors swirled, mixed with the ghostly images of memory and fantasy. Closing his eyes again did nothing to shut them out. The Madness was in him.

It reached though, the ribbons of color piercing him, winding their way inside until he couldn’t tell where he ended and they began.

Tarrant was consumed by it all, trying to hold onto anything, any memory or thought that might not be taken from him and twisted but everything slipped out of his grasp.

_Tarrant…_

His name, only a half-remembered thought, in her voice was the final torture.

He let go.


	4. Familiar Taste of Poison

“When did I get all of these _things_!”

Alice, surrounded by piles of clothing, knickknacks and random items, threw her hands in the air, frustrated. She had less than a week before the Wonder would sail for China and she still had to finish her packing. She fought her way out of the maze of belongings and finally stood by the dresser and mirror. Her trunk was only half packed and she was already sick of deciding what to take with her for the year-long voyage. The only reason she continued to mess with it all today was because she was trying not to think about Benton.

She leaned back against the dresser and sighed, glancing around the room again. Just three weeks ago Benton had asked for formal permission to court her. Naturally her mother and sister were thrilled and pressured Alice to agree. It hadn’t been a horrible thought at the time. She and Benton had continued to be intimate (discreetly, of course) since that first tryst months ago and Alice had discovered that she was more relaxed in his company outside of her flat. His actions showed that he did care for her and the proposal wasn’t entirely a surprise. Her acceptance, however reluctant, had been. And Alice knew the reason why.

She didn’t love Benton.

Oh, she cared for him. He was comfortable to be around and their bouts of sex were refreshing, ranging from rough to tender even in the same session. Most of all she enjoyed his friendship and the way he seemed to know her better than anyone else in her life. Sometimes he would say things that made her wonder if he even knew her dreams and the secret imaginings that she had never confessed to anyone.

But there was something missing.

For all that she liked Benton and enjoyed his company in and out of the bedroom, she knew that he didn’t fill that one place in her heart that the man she married should (and for some reason she imagined that man having flaming red hair, bright green eyes and a gap-toothed smile…none of which fit Benton). Before his request to court her and her acceptance she had been able to ignore it but now she found herself dwelling on it almost constantly. As she glanced around the room her eyes landed on the mirror that had a large sheet draped over it. For a few moments Alice stared at it, puzzled as to how it had gotten covered. Then she remembered. Just a week ago Benton had covered it, stating that he didn’t want anything to distract her from what he was about to do.

And what he had done to her had indeed consumed her full attention. Alice had to admit that she hadn’t known it was possible for a man’s tongue to be so…talented.

What made the incident stick in her mind was not Benton’s talent but instead that it was the first time he’d ever not wanted her to look in the mirror at some point. She looked at the covered mirror, her thoughts wandering back to the time when she’d felt her imagined watcher so clearly. Things had seemed so much less complicated then even with that feeling of going mad. True, Benton gave her grounding, a solid thing to hold onto here in this real world but more and more Alice found herself craving that feeling of madness.

She reached out to the mirror and gently tugged the sheet off of it, blinking at the reflection of the lamps currently burning in her room. Moving to stand in front of it, she let her fingers trail over the cool surface and sighed. What was the name she had given her imaginary watcher? Oh yes…

“Tarrant,” she whispered, as though the mirror could hear her.

And perhaps it could. Alice shivered as that “watched” feeling intensified. She smiled, realizing exactly how much she had missed that feeling, even if it was only her imagination. While Benton was a wonderful lover and able to make her beg for more, he had never been able to give her this particular feeling.

Her fingers slid down the glass and her arm dropped to rest at her side. Alice sighed. “So what will you do, Alice?” she asked herself, staring into her own brown eyes. There were several options in front of her at the moment, all of them painful in some way. She could go forward with Benton’s courtship and marry him after her return. He had already told her that he would happily wait for her return (and had promised to make her homecoming quite memorable). It wasn’t a horrible future to contemplate and Alice was very aware that people often married without love being part of the equation. Still, it made her heart ache a bit to think about missing that one simply emotion.

Another option was to turn down Benton’s courtship before she left. That option also caused her to wince as she pondered it. Though she didn’t love the man, she did care for him and she knew it would hurt him if she turned him down. There was too much between them at this point for any friendship to be salvaged, at least not now. Perhaps after she returned they might be able to simply be friends, but right away it would be far too painful.

And that would leave her with….what exactly?

Her work? A flat to herself? A mirror? Her imagination?

At that she had to laugh. She may not love Benton but Alice would admit that he did keep her warm on the nights he stayed with her. Her imagination, on the other hand, always left her wanting.

Which would she be happier with?

_Alice_ _…_

Her eyes drifted upward, above her own reflection and she imagined there was just the faintest suggestion of bright green eyes staring at her. As she watched them her mind began to fill in traces of detail: the outline of a face, smudges of color for lips. But why would her imagination show her a watcher who appeared so heartbreakingly sad? Those (imaginary) eyes held her for a long moment and Alice felt as though her heart was breaking.

A motion closer to her shoulder caught her attention and she broke off their stare, looking instead at the barest reflection laid over her own. She saw that familiar (not real!) hand holding something out to her, a small vial of liquid. Alice was now completely confused and wished her imagination would at least choose a fantasy that made some sort of sense, or at least was more along the lines of the previous ones. It wasn’t as though she could take the vial from her imagination. Out of curiosity she moved her hand until it was flat against the mirror’s surface, over the reflection of her madness.

_Drink…_

Without pausing to think, Alice closed her eyes and tilted her head back, her hands still pressed against the mirror. She could almost feel the light brush of fingertips against her cheek, the sharp coldness of metal on one of them making her tingle. The tingling moved down the side of her neck, pausing for a moment in the hollow of her throat and Alice felt warmth begin to spread through her, radiating from that point.

Her imagination must have been making up for lost time and Alice allowed her mind to relinquish control to it. How sweet the feeling of that (imagined) familiar touch. Once more her imagination even provided the sound of his breathing, so shallow and rapid. She felt her watcher’s breath on her cheek as just a whisper of warm air, swept in from the open window.

All in her mind. All an elaborate fantasy of her own creation. Not real. Never real.

Could she give up the chance to have something real, even if it wasn’t the _right_ real, for a mad fantasy?

Opening her eyes, she looked up into the mirror once again, finding those green eyes still staring at her. Slowly, she moved her hand to reach up and touch the glass where the (imagined!) reflection of his cheek would have been. The mirror’s surface, normally so cool, felt warm under the palm of her hand and she smiled again. Alice kept that hand in place and moved her other hand to cover the warmth where she imagined her watcher’s hand to be. Her lamp, burning on the table near her bed, flickered at the sudden gust of warm air from her window.

Yes, this is what she had been missing.

Alice gently moved her hand down the front of her dress, still imagining his hand trapped under hers. She paused as she reached the top of her breast (still free from those bloody corsets) and rested there for a moment, feeling her heartbeat, strong and steady. This feeling, this tingling, sweet, shivering sensation was never one that she had felt with Benton. Though he made her feel many things, this one particular one seemed to be reserved for her imaginary watcher alone.

She moved her hand downward, feeling the smooth fabric of her dress slide beneath her fingers, still feeling the warmth that seemed too much for just her small hand.

_Aye…_

The imagined word, tinged with a brogue made her gasp and she turned, placing her back against the mirror, needing to lean against its surface for support. Between her legs, Alice could feel the throbbing and she obligingly moved her hand lower. The sound of a low, familiar (never real!) growl in her ear shook her and she felt her muscles clench, anticipating the release that she hoped to find soon. The mirror’s surface must have been absorbing the heat from her body as it grew warm so quickly against her back.

Finally her hand reached her waist and there she halted. Alice relinquished her grip on the mirror with her other hand to reach lower, grasp her skirts and begin to gather them higher and higher until she felt the cooler air against her bare knees. Now she was able to move her other hand, still holding his imagined one, to press against that throbbing spot. Even through the remaining thin layers of fabric Alice could feel the dampness against her fingers and shuddered. Suddenly there was a moment of shifting and the imagined hand under hers was gone for a brief moment.

_Yer mine…_

Then the warmth was back, on top of her hand and Alice pressed harder, her fingers rubbing and moving against the damp material. Though her knees began to shake she felt the mirror steadying her and she gasped, knowing that release was so very close. An imagined pressure on top of her hand urged her on, the air in the room moving and sounding very much like a man’s heavy breathing in her ear. Alice felt it then, the moment when her whole body stilled for an instant and seemed to clench in anticipation. Even the breath in her lungs caught and burned as she froze. Suddenly her hand moved involuntarily and sent her form into the welcome spasms of pleasure. She gasped and heard her own voice, crying out softly, wordlessly.

It was a long moment before she was aware of anything else. When she finally opened her eyes again she realized that she was sitting on the floor, her side and cheek pressed against the mirror. Alice leaned back slightly, looking at her flushed reflection and noticed the smile on her face that hadn’t been there in some time.

She knew her choice was made.

This fantasy, this imaginary man that she had created, this was the one thing she craved. Not Benton and his very real body and pleasure. No, nothing Benton had done with her could quite match what her imagination could give her.

Even if it wasn’t real, it was enough for her. She had been given the choice and she drank willingly and deeply.

Madness tasted like honey and tea on her lips.


	5. If I gotta sin to see her again...

It had worked!

Tarrant knew he should not have doubted the White Queen’s word but he had still been holding his breath, terrified when Alice saw him in the Looking Glass. For all of Her Majesty’s assurances and his own knowledge of her potions expertise, he had still been worried that the potion she had given him would not work.

Even now he wasn’t quite sure exactly how it had worked.

He wasn’t sure how he had found his way out of the Madness.

He only knew that one moment he was lost in the swirling colors, wanting only their blissful release, and the next he was staring back into the mirror, catching only a brief glimpse of Alice’s questioning face before an unseen figure draped something over it, darkening the surface once more. Slowly he had managed to return (mostly) from that descent and the mirror remained dark.

Mirana had come to his workshop not long after that.

Much to his surprise, he hadn’t had to explain anything. Tarrant did have to wonder if she had been watching him while he was lost to Madness and Time. When the Queen had entered the room she had taken one look at him, nodded quickly at seeing him recognize her and then she had ordered him to a bath.

A bath!

Once he was clean and dressed in fresh clothing, his hat perched atop his head the Queen sat him down for tea and stared at him with her dark brown eyes.

“You’ll need this,” she said and then lifted a vial of amber colored liquid from the table next to her cup.

“What is it?”

Mirana finally smiled, almost sadly. “Something that will allow you to reach her, just for a short time.”

There was no need to ask which _her _the Queen spoke of. Tarrant felt his whole being shiver and he leaned closer, listening as the pale woman explained.

In essence, the potion would have to be drunk by him but accepted by her. She had to acknowledge him and it. If she did he would be able to reach through the mirror, not completely but just enough, to touch her. His presence would be invisible and it was possible she might only think it a breath of wind.

If she refused it…

If she refused then no potion would ever allow him to try again. She would remain on the other side of the glass, caught forever in her own world, with _him_.

But wait…

It had already happened.

It had worked!

He had been able to touch her, to feel her, to hear her cry out only for him.

The only thing that made it bittersweet was the look in her eyes after it was over. Tarrant knew that look. It was one he’d carried for many many years. The beginnings of Madness.

And he was partly the cause. That much he couldn’t deny.

He shook himself back to the present and looked down at his hands

But what if she never believed he was real? True, the potion had worked and the door between their worlds would remain slightly open but that didn't mean she'd ever remember and want to come back. That was the final key. The potion only allowed him to make that brief contact and keep the door open. Alice would have to remember Underland on her own. And though the Queen hadn't said it, he knew that much more was at stake than his own heart.

Knowing that didn't change his own feelings.

He just wanted his Alice, this wonderfully full of muchness Alice, back in his arms.

Another possibility came to him as he stared at his hands. She might remember, she might come back, but what if she didn't want to come back for him? Or what if he didn't measure up to the "Tarrant" she had essentially created? Would she prefer to venture deeper into her own madness alone? She was already taking that first step and though he rejoiced because it took her out of reach of that bloody Knave, it laid the foundation for taking her away from him as well.

Tarrant saw his hands shake and quickly laid them on the velvety surface of a new hat that he was working on. What if she didn't love him but only the idea of him? After all, she didn't remember who he was, what he was, the madness that was always just below the surface. She only knew the image of him, just the barest touch of him. And that wasn't enough for her to truly know him.

_I want her!_

There was no denying that most primal of urges. Even knowing that she'd been just a wee lad when first she came to the tea table, he'd had no problems transferring that fondness to desire for her older, in bloom self that had appeared again. He couldn't deny that he wanted her in many of the same ways that he had been forced to watch Stayne take her. More than that he wanted to know every inch of her body, wanted to feel her quiver under his calloused hands, wanted to breathe in the sweet scent of her...

Wanted to hear her gasp out his name...

_"Tarrant..."_

He felt himself harden at just the memory of her voice. As much as he tried to force his mind away from such thoughts, Tarrant found himself remembering the warmth of her skin beneath his hand. The feeling of her relinquishing control to his own ghostly presence. Without realizing it, his own hands had already made quick work of the buttons on his trousers and he reached inside, stroking that stiffened part of him that wanted so much more. He sank down into the chair near the mirror and closed his eyes, sliding his hand along the shaft, his mind wandering.

All too quickly his wandering mind landed on an image of Alice, completely, deliciously, bare of clothing. The only difference between this imagining and the memory of seeing her like that was that now there was no mirror between them and she gazed directly into his face. And this imaginary Alice gave him a look that made him groan deep in throat.

Would Alice, the real-touchable-naughty-Alice, look at him like that someday without the mirror between them?

If she would…

What would she do next?

If his imagination was any indication she might crawl toward him slowly, just as his not-really-here-Alice was doing. Her lips were turned up in a small smile and he swore for an instant that she bore a remarkable resemblance to Chessur with that mischievous expression. Suddenly, faster than she should have been able to move on her hands and knees, she was there, her cheek pressing against the inside of his knee. That smile was still on her face and Tarrant had to remind himself that this was not his real-Alice, just a made-up-terribly-naughty-Alice.

He was completely caught up in this fantasy now, shuddering as he imagined her inching closer, moving between his legs until she knelt so close that he could even imagine the heat of her body so near to his own. The heat seemed to travel over his skin and inflame his desire even more. He felt the throbbing of the swollen organ in his hand and when her eyes left his and focused on that same part of him. Her gaze lingered there for a long moment and then slowly she raised her brown eyes to meet his again, her smile almost inquisitive.

"Alice...," he whispered, the hoarseness of his voice startling in the silence. Amazing, this creature of his imagination, this not-real-at-all-Alice. Tarrant marveled that he could even think of an Alice looking at him like this much less reaching that small white hand up to touch his leg. He shuddered as she slid her hand slowly along the fabric of his trousers, closer and closer to the part of him that twitched as if begging for her touch.

And with that innocent-mischievous look on her face, she obliged.

It wasn't real. Those weren’t really her fingers touching him so tentatively. It wasn't really her hand sliding down the shaft, slipping deftly under his own.

Those weren’t really her lips, soft as petals, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of that twitching organ.

His throat closed up and he couldn't produce a single sound at that sensation. Even his breath froze in his lungs as his imagination worked overtime, letting him think he could feel her warm breath on him.

_It’s not real!_

Tarrant knew he should stop thinking these things, knew that he should not think of His Alice doing what this Imagined-Alice seemed about to do. He should think of something (anything!) else. He should get up, make himself presentable and being working on the latest orders that were half-finished here in his workshop. Yes, he should do those things straightaway and lock this particular imagining away in the back of his mind where it might not be seen again for a long time.

Oh, but this fantasy-Alice was persistent.

When those lips parted and then closed again, taking the tip of him into her mouth, Tarrant knew there would be no ending this fantasy abruptly. The feeling of her mouth, warm and wet and the touch of her tongue, rubbing along the underside of his shaft combined with her hand that was still under his own squeezing gently was almost too much.

After a moment of hesitation she found a rhythm, moving her head up and down along his member. Tarrant’s hand gripped hers tightly and began to stroke, matching her movements. He seemed unable to take his eyes off her, fascinated by the sight of her as she eagerly devoured him. It wasn’t long before he felt that familiar pressure building, causing his muscles to tense. With his free hand he reached out and touched her hair, the softness of the strands tickling his palm. He didn’t want to be rough, didn’t want to grip her hair tightly as he had seen Stayne do, yet part of him did! Fighting that particular urge he instead let his hand move to cup the back of her head, forcing himself to only use a light pressure to encourage her.

A choked, almost mewing sound, came from his fantasy and she looked up at him, those brown eyes gazing at him while her mouth continued its efforts. It was that direct look that pushed him past that brink and into the release he craved. Unable to resist anymore, Tarrant pulled her head closer and felt her body jerk as he pushed himself deep into her mouth, nudging back as far as she could take him. Spasm after spasm shook him and he closed his eyes, feeling the warm liquid dripping back down his shaft, wetting his hand and trousers.

A long moment later Tarrant was able to open his eyes and found his workshop empty once more. There was no trace of his Imaginary-Alice; not unless he counted the very real evidence of his orgasm that now covered his hand. Leaning his head back, he sighed.

Would His Alice ever do such a thing? He had seen her do that with Stayne, had seen the man’s triumphant glances into the mirror during those moments. Yet, would Alice ever _want_ to do such a thing with him, a man who was simply a hatter, and mad as well?

Tarrant shook himself and smiled. _First things first_, he thought. First, she had to remember and then want to return. Then they could talk of tea and ravens and feelings and…and…

_And maybe…that…._


	6. Endless Dream

Sleep was managing to elude Alice this night.

The fact that she would be leaving London on the_ Wonder_ tomorrow morning might have something to do with it. Traveling to new places was enough to make anyone nervous and excited.

Of course, Benton's reaction when she told him that she would not marry him might also be contributing to her sleeplessness. So many expressions had seemed to pass behind his eyes when she finally explained things to him the day before. Well, mostly explained. She didn't exactly tell him that she was not going to marry him because she preferred an imaginary watcher who lived in her mirror. That would have gotten her sent directly to the asylum. Instead she explained that she was going to be gone for a year or more and while she cared for him, she didn't want him to wait for the return of a woman who didn't love him.

The sadness, loss, and even anger she expected and she had steeled herself for those. The look of fury and betrayal that had finally settled in his eyes was the one she hadn't been expected. There had been a moment when she swore that she had seen that look before on Benton but not on Benton. He'd raised his hand and for an instant Alice had been positive he was going to strike her. She was too stunned to even flinch and instead just stared at him. After a moment his temper had cooled and instead he had laid his hand gently on her cheek.

"Are you sure about this, Alice?"

How could she tell him that she had never been more sure of a choice? She bit her tongue to stop the Mad words from escaping and nodded. She managed to wish him well and hurry away before his expression could cause her more pain. As she hurried out the door of his estate she could have sworn she heard him mutter something.

"I never thought I’d truly love you, Alice."

Alice rolled over onto her back and stared at the ceiling, pondering those words again. It was quite likely she had misheard him or perhaps he had been as lost in thought as she was now. She sighed and tried to put it out of mind. For now, she had to sleep or she'd look something frightful in the morning when they left port. Reaching for an extra pillow, Alice's eyes drifted to the corner of the room where her mirror normally stood. At this moment it was already installed in her cabin on _The Wonder _but for a moment she wished it was still here, so that she might be able to distract herself until sleep came. She wrapped her arms around the pillow instead and closed her eyes.

Though it was much later, Sleep finally arrived carry Alice to the place between dreams and waking.

*****

Alice found herself standing in the middle of a grey plain. The monotony of the color seemed to stretch endlessly to all sides of her. The grey above her head and below her feet only served to make her feel as though she was floating in a sea of such drabness. The sound of a gasp startled her and she spun to see who was sharing this strange _dream? hallucination?_ with her. As soon as her eyes settled on her companion she froze.

It was her.

Or rather, it seemed to be. Alice recognized the nightshirt she had pulled on before climbing into bed that evening. The only thing that seemed to be out of place was the look of utter confusion and some fear on her face. For a moment she wondered if she was looking at a reflection of herself and raised one hand to see if her double did the same. As she did so she let out a gasp of her own. The hand that she raised was most certainly _not_ her own. Quickly she lifted the other and then studied them. They were pale, almost white with scar, cuts, bandages and orange and pink stains covering them. On one finger she noticed a shiny silver thimble and in the back of her mind, something tickled trying to get her attention.

By now, she knew that she must have a similar expression of confusion on her face, though if these weren't her hands then this couldn't be her face. Alice wondered whose face and hands she was wearing, and if that person was currently the one staring at her from her own brown eyes.

The double took a step forward and she heard a familiar voice that was most definitely not her own speak from her face. The effect was most disconcerting until she realized that the voice, a man's voice, had spoken her name.

"Alice?"

She knew that voice. She knew it! Yet the memory of where wouldn't break free. She took a step forward, realizing that this body she was wearing was much taller and lankier than her own petite form. It was strange to realize she had to think about actually moving each limb precisely. As she stepped forward slowly, the Alice who was not her also stepped forward. Finally Alice spoke and was relieved to hear her own voice speaking her words.

"Yes...but why are you me? And for that matter who are you?"

She saw the not-Alice's face relax a bit. A small hand, her own hand, reached out to take one of her not-hands and held it for a moment. "You're me. I don't know why, my Alice. But you are here." Alice found it very odd to be looking down into her own face, still not knowing what face she currently wore at the moment. The not-Alice smiled at her. "Do ye remember yet, laddie? Do ye remember me?"

The brogue in his voice that shone through in those words sparked a recent memory. "You've been watching me!" she exclaimed, pulling back slightly. As soon as the words left her mouth it struck her why the hands that she currently wore looked familiar as well. She must be wearing his image if he was wearing hers. But why? Alice still had never seen her watcher clearly and long ago had decided that her imagination wanted it that way.

But if it had all been her imagination, why was it giving her this dream?

She shook her head slightly and felt a weight on it that was unfamiliar. She reached up and felt the brim of a hat. Curious, she removed it and examined it while her watcher smiled at her. The top hat looked as if it had been made with extreme care but it showed signs of extensive wear. Several hatpins stuck up from the brim and she touched them gently. Alice felt as though she had held this hat before and was familiar with it but the memory would not surface and she frowned. “I know this hat,” she said quietly, feeling her frustration grow.

Small hands reached out to take the top hat from her grasp and Alice froze in place as her not-so-imaginary watcher stood on tiptoe to place it back on her head. “There,” he said. “All better.” As she looked into her own face that held a smile that wasn’t quite her, Alice felt those words resonate in her. The feeling of déjà vu was building with every movement and spoken word. She opened her mouth to speak but her watcher placed a finger over her lips to stop her. “Don’t speak, Alice,” he said softly, the brogue now gone and replaced with a slight lisp. “Just remember.”

Alice felt her forehead crease with irritation her watcher laughed. “Even wearing my face,” he said, “that look is so very you…so full of your muchness.” Her watcher then leaned closer, reaching up to put both hands on either side of her current face. “Once again, you’re too tall, my Alice.” The voice was soft, but his words beat against her memories. She could only watch as her watcher stretched up once more and pressed a kiss to her lips. The sensation of kissing her own lips was an unusual one but quickly dismissed as she felt something inside her chest warm.

Until this one moment, she hadn’t been aware of how much she’d truly wanted her watcher to be someone real. Alice knew without a doubt that she loved this stranger who was familiar and wore her face in this dream. For all that she had cared for Benton, he had never caused this particular feeling in her.

They stayed that way for a long moment, pressed against each other until Alice finally pulled away. She smiled, but knew it was not a happy expression. “I’ll wake up from this dream soon. And you’ll be gone again,” she said.

Her watcher took her hand and held it tightly. “Yes, you will wake. And you’ll return to your world.” He paused and then continued in a voice that seemed to gain speed with every word. “One day you’ll remember me. You’ll remember everything and you’ll get to choose and I hope, oh I hope that you’ll choose—“

This time Alice was the one to stop him with a finger over his lips. “Shhh…”

“Choose…hope…” He trailed off and looked almost lost for a moment. “I’m fine.”

She looked at him, studying her own eyes and seeing the familiar stranger looking at her from behind them. “What will I remember?”

He shook his (her?) head. “I can’t tell ye, my Alice. Ye have te remember on yer own.” She noticed his voice was lower now, the brogue having returned. “When ye do, then I’ll be back fer ye.”

Creasing her forehead in confusion once more she realized that his grip on her hand was not as tight. She glanced down and saw that her hand that he wore seemed to be fading, turning into mist. As she looked back at her watcher’s borrowed face, she knew she had seen such a thing before, not that long ago. “No!” Alice tried to reach for her watcher but found her hand only passed through her own form. “Please, tell me!”

She saw only his smile, her own lips shaped in a sad smile, as he continued to fade into mist and smoke. “Soon, laddie.” As he disappeared and the mist swirled around her, turning everything a darker shade of grey she heard his voice once more.

“Fairfarren…”

*****

Alice awoke with a start, nearly leaping out of her bed. Her mother managed to back away quickly enough to avoid being knocked over by Alice’s sudden movements.

“Alice, dear? What’s wrong?”

She looked around and glanced down at her hands, noticing they were the same hands she’d been wearing for all her life. Finally she looked at her mother, memories of the dream falling away like leaves. “Nothing, Mother. Just…” Alice paused and looked at the corner where her mirror had stood until recently. “Just a very odd dream.”

Her mother smiled and patted Alice’s hand. “That’s not so unusual for you.” Alice couldn’t help but smile back at that. Her mother then leaned closer and hugged her tightly. “It’s time for you to get dressed or you’ll miss your voyage.”

Alice held onto her mother for a moment. “Thank you for everything,” her voice was quiet, the words barely spoken.

“You’re welcome, Alice.” Pulling back, Helen smoothed Alice’s tousled hair. “Now, out of bed with you!”

Alice found that as she rose and dressed she felt as though she was seeing her room, her mother and her things for the last time. She shook her head, trying to get rid of those thoughts. “You’re coming back, Alice,” she told herself, pulling on her boots. And yet, she felt as though something inside her was vibrating, trying to escape.

The ship’s departure time came so swiftly that Alice wondered if Time hadn’t shifted things about and then smiled at the thought of Time as a man, perhaps playing at game with the hours and minutes. Once at the dock she hugged her mother and sister once more and then was surprised as Benton stepped out of the small crowd. He reached for her hand and though she was wary, she allowed him to place a kiss on the back of it.

“You’ve always been just out of reach, Alice.” He smiled at her, though she could see that he was still unhappy with her choice.

She was confused by his choice of words but had no time to question him as the crewmen called to her to board quickly. Alice suddenly reached out and hugged him, wrapping her arms around the tall, slim form that she had come to know rather intimately. “I’m sorry, Benton.” Alice then pulled away and smiled back at him before hurrying up the gangway to the ship. Once aboard the crew began to cast off, and she turned to wave at her family and Benton. Slowly the _Wonder_ pulled away from the dock and Alice move to stand at the bow of the ship, relishing the feeling of freedom that came with the wind against her face. As she stood there a small flash of bright blue caught her eye and she saw the bluest butterfly fly up and land on her shoulder. Alice turned her head to stare at it and felt a sudden rush as though a dam had burst in her mind. Images, voices, _memories!_ came in a flood.

_“Who are you?”_

_“I make the path!”_

_“I like…largeness…’_

_“Off with her head!”_

_“You cannot live your life to please others.”_

_“I’ll take you to the Hare and the Hatter…”_

_“You’re late for tea!”_

_“Fairfarren…”_

Alice almost staggered against the intensity of the memories, against the knowledge of her watcher being Tarrant, of Benton being Stayne. It was all there and she had forgotten somehow! The butterfly flapped its wings on her shoulder and she knew suddenly what Tarrant had meant in her dream. That only once she remembered would she be able to make the choice to stay here in her world or return to Underland.

And she had no doubt what her choice would be.

Happiness filled her, pushing all else to the side to be dealt with later and she smiled at her friend, still perched on her shoulder.

“Hello, Absolem.”


	7. Slow Spinning Redemption

It was time.

With Absolem’s assistance Alice would travel through her mirror today and return to Underland once more. It had taken time to persuade the looking glass to open enough to allow her to pass through and both she and the butterfly had spent weeks coddling, sweet-talking and all but threatening the mirror. During that time Alice had worked with the company’s trading as she had intended to and she began to put various things into motion so that her absence would not be a burden on Lord Ascot. She also found herself trying to compose a letter to her mother and sister, explaining why she had to leave but found that to be the hardest part of her choice. Instead she simply wrote that she would be taking an extended voyage off the ship, and would find ways to let her family know that she was well.

During the wait she found that the mirror flatly refused to show her Tarrant or allow any communication with him. It was maddening that she was unable to talk to him, to tell him that she was returning. Absolem had assured her that Tarrant would learn of her return in time to meet her but he also would not carry any communication to the Hatter.

And so when she wasn’t working she found herself thinking back over her time in Underland and then dwelling on the Tarrant she had seen in the mirror as her watcher. How much of that had been real and how much had been her imagination? There was no way to ask him and Alice was certain that when faced with him she would be too afraid to ask. If it had been her imagination there was probably no harm done but if it had all been real, what would he now think of her? Would he be able to accept her and her actions and her newly discovered…pleasures? Or would he turn away from her?

Then there was the matter of Benton. Alice sat on the end of her bed and sighed. She’d come to terms much easier with the knowledge of his real identity than she had thought possible. While it was true that he had deceived her and she was rather certain that his initial approaches as Benton were rooted in a desire for revenge, Alice was certain that at some point he’d come to care for her. She remembered how he had looked at her in the beginning, with the predatory smile and how he had looked at her as she left for this voyage…and how sad he had seemed. There had definitely been a change during the time they had been together.

Of course, his real identity also explain his fascination with having their trysts in front of the mirror. Perhaps he had known that Tarrant was watching at some point. Perhaps he simply wanted to ensure that had the Hatter glanced through at any moment that he would be greeted with the sight of her and Stayne. Even so, at one point he had covered the mirror and left it that way. Alice wondered if that was the point when he had come to truly care for her as herself, rather than as a means of revenge.

“How will Tarrant look at me if he knows about Stayne?” she asked aloud to the empty room. It was a question that had continued to plague her during these weeks of waiting. Would Tarrant not want her if he knew she had already been with another man, a man that he hated? How much might Tarrant have seen? If he had been watching then he would know that Alice had not resisted, that she had enjoyed the trysts with Stayne. Would he want her after that?

Alice felt her resolve start to shake and shook her head sharply. “I made my choices.” She balled her hand into a fist. “I cared for Benton…Stayne…and I will not regret anything that happened between us. I made that choice,” her voice had stronger now. “And I’m making the choice to return. If Tarrant does want me then I’ll ask if the Queen still needs her champion.”

“You’re ready.”

Absolem’s voice startled her and she looked up to find the butterfly perched on her writing desk. “What do you mean? I’ve been ready for weeks!”

He flew over to her and perched on her knee. “You were ready physically to go back. But until you made up your mind about the Hatter and the Knave you wouldn’t have been let through the glass.”

She bit her lip and watched him. “You mean me not regretting what happened with Benton?”

Nodding, he flapped his wings slowly. “You had to find your resolve to remain in Underland despite what anyone might think of your choices.” He smiled at her. “And you did.”

“So, now can we go?” she asked, finally smiling at her friend.

“All you have to do is know where you want to be and step through.”

Alice stood as Absolem flitted off her knee and landed on the mirror’s frame. She picked up the small case she had packed with a few items she hadn’t wanted to leave behind and some basic items of clothing and stepped toward the mirror. Closing her eyes she thought once of her mother and sister, of Benton/Stayne and Hamish, of Lord Ascot and her late father. Then, with a deep breath, she firmly planted an image of Tarrant Hightopp in her mind. As she imagined each detail of his appearance she felt her lips curling up into a smile. Without another word of encouragement or instruction, Alice stepped through the looking glass.

It felt as though she had stepped through a small rainstorm, with water pouring over her skin, and then she felt the wind and sun. Alice opened her eyes and found herself staring at a familiar sight: the old windmill and a long and mismatched tea party setting. Her eyes sought out the chair that she remembered Tarrant sitting in most often but it was empty. In fact, all of the seats were empty though the table was set with fresh treats and steam rose from the teapots.

She walked toward the table slowly, wondering where everyone had disappeared to when she heard a soft, lisping voice behind her.

“You came back…”

Alice dropped her case and spun around, her smile stretching to rival Chessur’s as she took in the sight of a very familiar Hatter standing within arm’s reach. “It’s really you,” she said in a whisper.

“It’s really me. I think,” he replied. “Though if you’re here I hope you are really you as well since if you were not that would mean that I wouldn’t—“

Alice smiled and reached out to touch his hand. “Hatter…”

He paused and she saw his face relax. “I’m fine.” Then his eyes lit up and turned such a bright shade of green that she couldn’t help but stare. “I’m more than fine! You’re back!”

Now she laughed as his voice rose with excitement and she couldn’t resist any longer. Taking a step forward she closed the distance between him and wrapped her arms around him, pressing herself against him. Tarrant stood there for a moment, his own arms hovering uncertainly before finding their place around her and locking her in that embrace. “I missed you,” she said, her voice muffled against his chest.

Those three words melted his heart. Tarrant had spent the time between the last dream he had shared with Alice and discovering she would return wondering how different she would be. He knew that he would have welcomed her no matter how different she was from his own memories and fantasies. There had been hesitation, however, wondering if she cared for Stayne now that she knew his true identity. Fear that she would have preferred to be with the Knave had chased him for some time. After all, she was no longer the innocent child that had captured his heart. Now she was a woman, with that innocence gone and replaced with…desires? knowledge?...that made him shiver with love and wanting.

There had been many moments when he had wondered if she had changed beyond what he could imagine. Those had scared him most of all, that he would not be enough for this willful and wonderful child-woman. Yet with her words she had set his mind at ease and unknowingly reassured him. No, this was _His_ Alice and no matter what else she may have done, she was here now, in his arms.

Alice felt the arms around her tighten suddenly and she wondered what had crossed his mind. She leaned back slightly, not releasing him from her embrace but moving so that she could look up at him. The pale face with the familiar mercury stains, the bright firey-red hair, the top hat that she remembered on her own head in the dream that helped her remember….all those things were finally here, in her reach. She smiled, happiness radiating from her. “Am I late for tea?” she asked, humor making her tone light.

He laughed, a sound that she relished hearing. “Yer never late fer tea, my Alice,” he said, his voice tinged with the brogue that never failed to make her shiver. “Whenever ye arrive is always th’ righ’ time.”

 Releasing her from his embrace, Tarrant took her hand and picked up her case with his other. Still smiling, he led her to the tables and pulled out the same chair she had sat in on her previous visits. Alice sat, hoping that this time it wouldn’t be just a visit but instead a regular occasion. Tarrant’s reaction to her visit seemed to indicate that he was more than pleased at her return but she still worried. As he sat at his usual place she frowned and he noticed immediately.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

Alice hesitated for a moment, unsure if she truly wanted to bring up things that might be relevant. After all, there was a chance that Tarrant had no knowledge of her involvement with Stayne.

Her reluctance to speak made Tarrant fearful. He spoke up instead. “It’s that slurvish Knave, isn’t it?”

Surprise, fear and a hint of defiance flashed across her face. Alice knew without a doubt now that Tarrant knew everything, from Stayne’s initial encounter with her to the various escapades in her bedroom in front of the mirror. And her worst fear was confirmed. There was indeed a look of anger and disgust in his eyes. She wanted to run, to hide, to beg forgiveness and yet even as she felt shame start to fill her, it met with her pride and was immediately extinguished. Just minutes before she had already decided not to let anyone, not even Tarrant, make her regret her choices.

Alice lifted her chin and Tarrant was surprised to see the defiance flash in her brown eyes. “Yes. This is about Stayne.” She met his gaze steadily. “It needs to be out in the open between us.”

Tarrant was surprised at her tone, very even and uncompromising. Oh yes, this was his Alice, all grown up and still stubborn! Yet, she was right. They needed to discuss this before anything else might happen. He needed to hear it from her that she was no longer thinking of Stayne. That she had always been thinking of her Hatter instead. “Do you love him?” The question was past his lips before he could stop it.

“No.” Her reply was without hesitation. Then she continued. “I cared for him a great deal. He was never unkind to me and I’m certain now that he loved me, at least at the end of our association.” That was a surprise to the Hatter. He had never thought the Knave capable of anything even approaching love. Alice held up a hand to stop him from saying anything. After taking a breath she went on. “I know now why he approached me in the beginning but I won’t apologize to you or anyone else for being with him.”

Disappointment raced through Tarrant’s body, leaving him cold. From the sound of it, she still cared for the Knave and might even have fond memories of him. Did this mean she wanted to find a way to bring him back to Underland? Did she not want to remain here? He finally found his voice again. “Do you want to be with him?”

Her eyes opened wide in surprise and suddenly she laughed. Tarrant couldn’t understand why she found his fearful question so amusing and waited until she had composed herself enough to speak. “You don’t know, do you?” she asked, still giggling.

He shook his head. “Know what?”

Alice had finally calmed her laughter and now she smiled at him, her heart lighter. “That last time in front of the mirror with you…I made my choice then, still thinking you were just a figment of my mad imagination. I knew then that I would rather be mad…insane…and still have you even as a hallucination than be with Stayne, even knowing that he loved me.”

Hope lit up Tarrant’s face. “You mean…”

Nodding, she reached across the table and took his hand. “I’ve only wanted to be with you from the beginning. Benton, I mean Stayne, was a reminder of you. He was the only real connection that I had with you, even though I didn’t realize it at the time. It’s why I couldn’t ever love him in return.” Alice stood then and moved until she was inches from him. She brought her face so close to his own that he could feel her warm breath as she spoke.

“I love you, Tarrant.”

She kissed him then, the first true kiss that she had shared with him. The sensation spread like fire through her veins and she felt him respond after a moment of surprise. Without thinking she reached to cup his face and he growled, the sound reminding her of the first encounter with him through the mirror. Quickly he reached and pulled her into his lap, holding her tightly against his own body. Alice felt as though her skin was on fire and she could feel the evidence of his own arousal hard against her leg. Now it was her turn to groan and her hands moved, reaching for his coat and finding their way inside.

Tarrant obliged her silent demand by letting go of her and slipping the coat off. She then shifted her attention to his tie and he couldn’t help but laugh. He leaned back and looked at her for a moment, taking in her flushed face. “Alice, do you want this? Now? Here?”

She kissed him again before replying. “I’ve been wanting this since the last time that I was here. I’ve wanted this even when I thought you were simply a reflection in a mirror.” Standing, she reached up and began unbuttoning her simple traveling dress. Within moments she stood in front of him in only a chemise and bloomers. “Your turn,” she said with an impish grin.

More than happy to oblige, Tarrant stood and began the much longer process of removing his several layers of clothing. Finally he stood in simply his shirt and trousers. Alice reached for him and once again found herself pressed against him, only this time she could feel the heat of his body through the thin layers of clothing they both still wore. Almost immediately they began to reach for each other’s remaining clothing and were briefly caught up in a tangle of sleeves and cotton. Soon enough both were happily appeased with the feel of bare flesh against flesh. Alice shuddered as Tarrant claimed her mouth again for a moment before trailing kisses down her neck, nipping at the sensitive area of her shoulder.

He continued to kiss his way lower, slowly kneeling as he did so. His lips brushed against her breasts, teasing them with the lightest of touches before reaching his arms around her to urge her to the soft grass as well. Alice knelt, glad to hide the shaking in her legs, and brought her lips to his once again. Her hands pressed against his shoulders, urging him to lie back on the ground and he complied, stretching his long limbs out in the grass. Alice sat there for many seconds simply taking in the sight of him. She had long imagined what he would look like, completely bare before her. Even the transparent images in the mirror could not compare to the reality of her Tarrant in the flesh.

She reached out and trailed her fingers over his chest, watching him close his eyes and shiver. Alice smiled, pleased and then allowed her fingers to continue their movements lower on his body pausing only when they hovered just above the part of him that she ached to touch. She watched as it jerked in response and finally she moved her fingertips over his swollen member, listening as Tarrant drew a ragged breath. Wrapping her fingers around him she squeezed gently and was rewarded with a gasp. Encouraged by his response she moved her hand, stroking the shaft and watched him as his hands fisted in the grass. Feeling her own desire flare in response, Alice leaned down and placed a gentle kiss to the tip of his member.

Tarrant’s whole body seemed to become rigid at that single kiss. The next moment he felt the warmth of her mouth close over him and a choked noise forced its way out of his throat. This was certainly better than anything that his fantasies had shown him. Oh, to have his very-real Alice touching him of her own accord…to have her lips wrapped around him...he wasn’t sure he would be able to contain himself if she continued her current actions much longer. He reached for her and tugged her up to kiss her once again, tasting himself on her lips. With a swift movement he turned and reversed their positions, with her now lying underneath him.

Alice had only a moment to take in this new position before Tarrant was kissing her once more, his fingers sliding down her body until they brushed the small nub that made her jerk and whimper at the same time. her fingers clutched as his arm, nails digging into his skin as his own fingers continued to tease that part of her. Her body writhed against him and he move his fingers lower, feeling the wetness against his hand. His own body shuddered in response and he couldn’t resist slipping one long finger inside of her, She cried out, her voice choked and muffled against his lips. As her body moved against him he slid a second finger inside her wetness and began to rub, just a light pressure against the inside of her and and began to pant, her heart racing.

"Tarrant, please..."

Her plea was more than enough encouragement. As she spread her legs, he lowered himself between them, pausing in his kisses to stare into her eyes.

"Are you--" he began but she cut him off.

"Completely." Alice replied. Then she moved her hips, nudging the tip of his member just barely inside her.

"Mine..." he finished in a breathy voice, thrusting himself into her. She could only gasp in reply and move her hips against him, her body convulsing around his own sex. They began to move together, their bodies finding a rhythm quickly.

Alice reached up and cupped his face in her hands, watching his eyes change color rapidly. "Yours," she whispered, then cried out as the sensations in her body built, finding that peak. "Please...please..." Her voice was choked and pleading. Tarrant quickened his thrusts and felt his own body starting to convulse. He cried out her name, his voice clear of both brogue and lisp, at the same time that her own ragged voice called out his own. Alice's body spasmed around him, clenching and releasing as he found his own release.

She felt the warmth of him fill her as her body shivered. As Tarrant collapsed on top of her, his breathing rough and fast, Alice wrapped her arms around him. This moment, she thought, was worth all that she had gone through since the return to her world. All of the thoughts of madness, the torment she put herself through, the heartache at not being able to love Benton in return...all of it had been worth it just to be here at this moment. Then she shut her eyes and dozed off, the comforting weight of Tarrant warm against her.

It wasn't long before they both woke, finding themselves curled against each other. Alice smiled and snuggled against him. "Now what?" she asked.

"What would you like?"

Alice thought for a long moment before responding. "I think at this moment I'd like a cup of tea."

He laughed and hugged her closer, nuzzling her neck. "That I can do. And after?"

She rolled over to face him. "After that? I think I'd like to find something to do here in Underland as a trade or profession. Preferrably where I can be with you."

Tarrant found himself ginning. "Anythin' for ye, lad. Anything."

Not long after they had dressed and sat for tea with Thackery and Mallyumkim, Alice looked around and reflected that she might indeed be mad, and it did truly taste like tea and honey...but she wouldn't trade a moment of it, not for all the riches in both her world and this one.

She was home.


End file.
